


Dead Ends

by Beautiful Dreamer (Supertights)



Series: Ultimate New Warriors [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel 1610 - Fandom, New Warriors, Ultimate Marvel
Genre: Abduction, Aliens, Alternate Universe, Atlantean, Cyborgs, F/M, Gen, Minor Character Death, Mutant, NaNoWriMo, Original Character(s), Orphans, POV Alternating, Past Tense, Revenge, Superheroes, Teen Angst, Teenagers, Unbeta'd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-28
Updated: 2011-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-23 03:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supertights/pseuds/Beautiful%20Dreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had lives once, people they loved, families...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwayne meets the runaways from the North for the first time and he's not overly impressed.

The pilot sat quietly in the jet, prepping it for take off when he noticed the Range Rover pull up alongside the plane. Stepping back into the passenger bay, he lowered the steps.

Dwayne Taylor, head of the Taylor Foundation jumped out of the four wheel drive and boarded the plane. He was a young man, maybe eighteen, with the body of an Olympic athlete and the dangerous interests of an extreme adventurer. His older bodyguard, Andrew Chord, followed him carrying two large sports bags. As he stowed them, his coat opened enough to reveal a gun in a worn leather holster.

"Hey, Joe, let's go home. I've had enough of Alaska," said Taylor. 

The pilot grinned. "I hear that."

He turned to raise the steps and shut the hatch when a hand stopped him.

"Not until everyone is on board," said a young voice with the familiar accent of a Long Island native, out of place in the north.  Three boys, two girls and a cat were crowding their way onto the plane, somehow intimidating the hell out of everyone.

"Who the fuck are you?" asked Dwayne, unnerved. "Chord?"

Chord already had his weapon out and pointed at them but it was torn from his hands and disassembled in the air in front of him. The pieces fell with a clatter to the floor.

"And that'll be you if you don't sit _the fuck_ down right now," said the blue skinned girl, her black eyes on them like a shark eying its dinner. "Did I say that right?" she added as an aside to the dark-haired boy beside her.


	2. Dwayne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwayne Taylor has some history but then, who doesn't?

__

_Thirteen years ago, New York City_

Dwayne Taylor stood between the two closed caskets containing his parent's dead bodies. He was confused and alone, glancing back at Andrew Chord, his father's best friend and now his temporary guardian, tears streaming down his angry young face. He'd kissed his Mom and Dad goodnight, and gone to bed the loved child of a small family. The next morning, he was an orphan. The man who preferred to be called Chord, moved forward and knelt on one knee. He put his arm around his ward's shoulders and whispered in his ear.

"Dwayne, it's okay to be sad and it's okay to be angry."

Dwayne put a hand out to touch the dark polished wood of his father's casket, and then looked back at Chord again. "Can I see them?" he asked.

Chord shook his head, eyes dark and unreadable. "No, son, it's best that you don't. They wouldn't want you to see them like this."

Dwayne ran his fingers along the side of the casket, trailing the brass inlay then looked at his mother's, a twin to his father's. Tears flowed faster. He threw himself at Chord and was enveloped by the big man's arms.

"C'mon, let's go sit down."

The big man picked him up and carried him. Dwayne let him, it would be the last time he would allow anyone to treat him like a child. Resting his face against the rough fabric of the black funereal suit, he closed his eyes.

"Chord."

Chord answered just as succinctly. "Fury."

Dwayne opened his eyes again and turned his head to gaze at the owner of the voice. A tall black man in a military uniform looked back at him with his one good eye, the other was covered in a patch.

"Are you a pirate?" he asked in wonder.

The man laughed and shook his head. "Not recently, son, but I was a friend of your daddy. A long time ago, when we were soldiers together, we were also friends. He was a good man and the world seems a little empty without him. I see a little of your Dad in you."

"Amen," murmured Chord. His chest rumbling against Dwayne's cheek.

"We'll talk later, Chord. I'll be seeing you again, little Dwayne Taylor."

"Bye," said Dwayne in his child's voice.

　

 _Three months ago_

Dwayne woke up from a dream in which he relived the day of his parents funeral. The first time he met Nick Fury. He vividly recalled the sensation of running his fingers along the polished wood of the caskets but in his dream the they pulsed under his hand, as if alive.

He watched the clock tick over from midnight to one minute past midnight. "Happy Birthday Dwayne Taylor. Welcome to the rest of your life," he murmured.

Eighteen years old. A billion dollar charitable foundation at his disposal. An unhealthy sense of vengeance for the people who had killed his parents.

Today was going to be a very good day.


	3. Richard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew being a good Samaritan would end badly.

_Six months ago, Long Island, New York_

For Richard Rider, it wasn't a good day. His younger brother was refusing to speak to him after he'd crushed his science project by accident, joking around. His parents had grounded him effective immediately. Ginger had broken up with him. Again. He'd lost his after school job, though admittedly being cast out of the hairnet and fryology fraternity didn't bother him _so_ much. He could only leave the house to go to school and home again.

He'd managed to wriggle the public library out of them, so he still had a tiny amount of freedom, and he'd asked (it hadn’t sounded like begging at all) Ginger to meet him there so they could talk. He ran his hand over his hair, smoothing it down.

 _"Help!"_

Initially he walked straight past the alley, the cry not cutting through all the other things on his mind but when it did filter in, he backed up and peered down the dark alley. In the shadows, two figures wrestled.

'Crap!' he thought, looking at his watch. Ginger would be sitting waiting for him in the library. His parents were going to kill him because he there was no way he was coming out of this unscathed, and it would be fairly obvious to their disapproving eyes that he'd not gone straight to the library and then home.

 _"HELP!"_

"CRAP!" he bellowed in frustration, running towards the struggle.

Two heads came up and looked at him, one male, and one female. The man was older and roughly dressed, Rich could see it as he got closer. Really rough. Maybe a mugger, or a desperate homeless guy. The woman was young and tall but built like a Mack truck. She was kicking and fighting like wildcat. The contents of her purse were strewn across the ground.

"Help," she cried, catching Rich's eye.

The older man looked at her in surprise. He pulled one arm back and reached into his coat.

"Hey!" Rich shouted. "Don't even think about it!"

He didn't know what the old man was planning but he figured nothing good ever came out of the pockets of homeless guys. Rich jumped him before he could pull his hand back out of the coat, and punched him but the old man refused to let go of the woman's arm.

"Let. Her. Go. You _freak_ ," grunted Rich as he fought to break the grip on her arm.

She scrambled away from the pair of them, stilettos slipping in the trash lining the alley.

"Stop."

Homeless guy spat blood from his split lip and it hit Rich's cheek.

"Goddammit."

Wiping it away furiously, Rich fisted his hands and laid a few punches into the guys face and torso. Angry, he didn't stop until the old man stopped fighting back and lay gasping in pain on the ground.

"It's not what you think, boy," he said.

Rich raised his fist again. "Stay down," he warned.

The woman groaned from behind him and he turned to check on her. "Are you okay, Ma'am?"

"My arm, it feels broken. Can you... call the police, paramedics, anyone, please?" she asked, face grey, slumping a little.

The old man leapt up like he hadn't had the living shit pounded out of him by a much younger guy and ran down the alley, turning a corner and disappearing. Rich followed him a few steps but the woman called him back. She pointed to her cell phone, lying free of the purse on the ground.

"Nice," he said, admiring it. "Is it the new iPhone? I wanted one of them but there's no chance of that now... unless you put in a good word for me. I am so busted, my parents are gonna kill me."

"Anything, just call."

He picked the phone up off the ground and wiped the glass screen before dialling nine-one-one. Putting the phone to his ear, he screamed when a surge of energy poured out of it, stunning him, searing the side of his face. The smell of burnt hair filled the alley as he fell to the ground, his back arcing in agony. The woman stood up and took the phone from his hand. From the end of the alley, where the old man had run, came the sound of something being tipped over. It deflected her attention from Rich for a moment until they heard a cat yowl. She looked back down at him curiously then walked away, he heard the tip tap of her high heels fade. He gasped and tried to lever himself up but the pain had travelled from his face throughout his body and he fell again, blacking out for a second. When he came too, the old man had returned, still bleeding from his broken mouth.

"Blue blazes, just what I need. To fix up a nosy human pup." He grinned a bloody smile, crouching over Rich. "Should've stayed out of it, eh, Earthling."


	4. Namor'ita

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family is both a blessing and a curse.

_3,700 years ago, the submerged City of Atlantis_

When they came for her, for her family, she stood proud, sword in one hand, shield in the other. Her armour was fully blooded from one war or another. They were always fighting for something.

Her mother begged from behind her, pleaded for her to yield to the law of the council.

"Never! A Namor _never_ surrenders! We have done _nothing_ wrong, I will not let them take us because of something Lord Namor has done." She spat his name, feeling the rage wash over her. Her foolish cousin, the current head of her family and their estates, had led them all to dishonour and most likely death. Every man, woman and child would be put to the sword for his treachery.

"N'ita!" her mother screamed. "I order you."

She didn't look back. "Flee, Mother, for I intend to die gloriously in battle."

A scrape of metal and then her mother stood at her side, holding a trident longer than her own body. She let out a tired sigh. "I may be an old woman but I was once a general in our miserable army and I have _calluses_ older than you, brat daughter. You do not dare to tell _me_ to flee from a fight," her mother's voice was that of a leader of warriors.

Namor'ita glanced at her mother and grinned, and was rewarded with a rare smile in return.

The door was torn away and a wash of the Royal Council's elite guard poured through the doorway. Their faces alight with the anticipated slaughter. N'ita screamed a challenge and waded straight into battle, her sword slicing open the chest on the first soldier who dared oppose her.  Baring her teeth, she fell on any and all her crossed her path, keeping an eye on her mother who was holding her own. Her armour was as slick with the blood of her enemies and little of her own.

"N'ita."

It was her old shield mate, D'anno. A lover from the past, when she was hot from battle and in need of flesh to bury the memories. They had not spoken for years.

"N'ita, surrender! You cannot hope to win here."

She gave him the full force of her berserker rage, clashing her sword against his, ramming his shield with hers. "When have you known a Namor to surrender to anything?" she cried.

"Your cousin surrendered quickly enough," he countered. "But you, I knew you would never surrender. N'ita, this is one battle you won't fight your way free of. Outside stand a score or more ready to tear your family apart. Surrender to me, I will speak for you at the trial."

His eyes, shrouded by his helm, pleaded with her.

Her mother screamed her name and a child wailed from the rooms beyond.

"Namor'ita?! Before everyone you love is put to the sword," he implored.

"Call off your dogs then," she said. "And I will get my family to put up their arms and surrender."


	5. Vance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vance just wants to chill out, too bad his family are a pain in his ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note for original character.

_Three months ago, The Cape, Florida_

Vance Astro paddled lazily, letting the current guide the board as it would. Trailing his fingers through the warm water, he waited for a wave to take him back in, though he wasn't in a hurry. A light breeze ruffled his sun bleached dark hair and his bright hazel eyes took in everything around him with a relaxed curiosity. He grinned at his sister, Jessie, who despite being two years older looked more like his twin. She was sitting astride her board, waiting like him for a wave large enough to take them in. She put her hands around her mouth so as to carry her voice across the water.

"Bro!"

"What?" he shouted back.

She waved him closer. Paddling over to her, he sat upright on his board.

"We should go in soon. Dave's coming over for dinner tonight and Pop's cooked something special. We're supposed to be on our best behaviour because as he so ickily put it, he's horny and we're not allowed to scare Dave off."

"He's a million times better than Chad."

"Okay yes, agreed, Chad made me want to scratch my eyes out with his expertly timed extreme PDAs," she said melodramatically, clawing at her eyes. "Maybe one day Pop will meet a guy who isn't a complete tool or another astronaut groupie."

"I had plans tonight. Beach party. I'll be ditching the family fun early."

"Far be it for me to burst your denial bubble but you're still on thin ice with the old man since you snuck out to see Finn at two am on a school night so I think you're gonna miss the party and be happy you're not totally grounded for that, well that and your questionable taste in women. Finn? Really?"

"Really?!" he mimicked, leaning back to avoid the swat at his head.

He shivered, the air was definitely cooling down. "That's time, Junior," she said, gesturing at the beach and he nodded, the ocean had flattened out to a mirror. Jessie beat him in but only barely, she was the stronger swimmer with muscles built up over many summers. He'd finally hit his growth spurt and was putting on muscle by the day much to her disgust when she opened the refrigerator to find it empty every other day.

Slamming her board into the sand, she unzipped her wetsuit, peeling the top half down like shucking out of a second skin revealing an neon green bikini that blazed against her tan. She ran her fingers through her long dark hair and squeezed the water out.

"God I need a shower," she muttered.

Vance shook himself like a dog, water spraying in all directions. His hair stuck out like he'd jammed his finger in a light socket.

"Nice look, bro," said Jessie, grinning.

They walked back to her car, a Ford mustang older than both of them. A gift when she'd graduated, from her proud father. She opened the passenger door and wound down the window, then shut the door again. He passed her his surf board and she shoved it into the back seat, then pushed hers in on top.

Picking up the towel she'd left on the passenger seat, she dried off and threw it to him.

"Can I drive?" he asked, combing his damp hair back into shape with his fingers.

"As _if_ ," she snorted. "Get in. Remind me, next paycheck is for the roof rack."

He crawled into the passenger seat, under the boards from the driver's side. "I'll believe it when I'm not decapitated on the ride home."

"Seat belt, Miss Daisy," she muttered.

"Yes, _Mom_." He pulled the seat belt down and picked up his cell phone. She made a 180 turn and sped down a gravel road towards the highway.

"Call Pop and tell him we're on the way. He's gonna have a fit as it is. We were supposed to be back and presentable half an hour ago."

He put the phone on speaker and rang the call through.

 _"Where the hell are you guys?"_ Their father's annoyed voice came over loud and clear.

Jessie tutted. "Now don't freak out, we're on the way."

"Yeah, Jessie's breaking all land speed records getting us home. We'll be there in ten minutes max.," added Vance cheerfully, laughing when their father went off at her for speeding, weathering the glare she shot at him.

"Shut the fuck up, Junior. I'm gonna kill you." She took one hand off the wheel and punched him in the arm.

Arnold Astro's voice interrupted them before any blood was shed. " _Don't kill your brother, Jess, he's the only one you've got_."

Vance grinned as she shook her fist at him and mouthed obscenities.


	6. Robert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the hell? Catnapper!

__

_Three months ago, Los Angeles, California_

"Put the cat out, Robbie, then clean your teeth and get ready for bed. I'll be there in a few minutes to tuck you in."

Robbie Baldwin rolled his eyes in his mother's direction. "Mom, I'm twelve, I think I can tuck _myself_ in." He herded Niels towards the front door, the ginger cat ducked and weaved trying to escape back to his warm spot on Robbie's bed but the boy was having none of it. "Out you go, buddy, do your business. I'll meet you back here in five."

The cat gave him what passed for a surly look and stalked through the open door. Robbie kept an eye on Niels as he disappeared into the garden, no doubt watering his mother's flower garden. A white van drove by slowly, the driver hard to make out because the windows were tinted.

"Mom, there's a creepy van with a creepy guy in it driving past," he yelled.

She came out of the kitchen and stood behind him, he noticed she smelt like brownies. His mouth practically salivated in anticipation of a chocolately snack later.

"Don't be so dramatic, Robbie. Where's the creepy guy and his creepy van?"

Robbie looked back, the van was gone. "I guess it drove away. Sorry, Mom."

She ruffled his floppy head of blond hair. He scowled at her, being twelve, he was way too old for hair ruffling.

"Its okay, Robbie, just get the cat back in now. He's had time to sprinkle my petunias." She walked back to the kitchen.

"Niels?!" The cat didn't reappear. "Niels? Get your furry little butt back in here." He shouted louder, stepping out onto the porch. The security light came on at the corner of the house, spotlighting a man holding Robbie's hissing and spitting cat under one arm. He'd frozen under the light.

"NIELS!" Robbie shrieked in his squeaky high voice. "MOM!"

The man ran, jumping the small hedgerow between the Baldwin's and the neighbours. Robbie pursued him barefoot, screaming.


	7. Angelica

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She just wants to be a real girl again.

__

__

_Six months ago_

 __

Lying on her bed, Angelica Jones stared at the ceiling, utterly bored.

"Ang?"

She glanced at her room mate.

"You gonna eat that slice?"

Angel looked at the cold pizza on a plate next to her bed. She shook her head. "Can't even taste it anymore. What's the point? Professor said I don't need food."

"I just wanted the pizza..." the blonde girl muttered. "Look, it doesn't mean you can't _pretend_ to be normal."

"What's so fan- _fucking_ -tastic about normal?" Angel was cranky, lonely and her new room mate was going to catch it if she didn't shut the hell up.

"Don't you miss your old life? I miss my friends, my old school, everything that came before this." With a whoosh, the girl lit herself on fire. Liz Allen. That was the girl's name.

"Put yourself out for god's sake!" Angel rolled her eyes, why they'd put the two of them together, it was like they were begging for the Academy to be torched. "Listen up, Blondie, I'm only saying this once. I do miss my friends, I miss having a boyfriend, I miss my Dad, I miss my cat but all that _missing_ isn't going to make me a real girl. I mean, God, look at me..." She glanced down at herself, her skin a normal slightly pale shade with a few freckles.

"You're hot, boys talk about you all the time," said Liz, not without some envy. "Bobby Drake mostly."

"The ice kid? Fire and ice, fuck, a marriage made in heaven," she snarled. "Yeah, next time he mentions how hot I am, tell him I'm so fucking hot people touch me and they burn, sometimes they just turn to ash and poof, it's like they never existed. Ask what happened to my Dad, my cat, my house, my friends and even my school. I can't get close to anybody, that's why I'm here. I-I'm the anti-girlfriend." She looked up and found her room mate watching her with wide eyes. "Sorry," she muttered. "I always forget I'm not the only one who has issues."

"No, that's okay." Liz sat back, clutching a pillow.

"It's really not. I'm going out. Cover for me?"

Liz nodded, watching her climb out the window.


End file.
